Future Son
by Smudgie
Summary: What if Marty had told Lorraine in 1955 who he really was?


Just a short one shot – what if Marty and Lorraine had had a few more moments alone together in the car? The idea for this story came to me a few days ago when I was thinking: what if someone came up to me and said he was my future son? The idea was extremely strange to me. I thought, well, we've seen the weirdness of Marty meeting his parents when they were his age; but has anyone actually ever thought about how Lorraine would feel if Marty told her the truth? (Well, I'm sure someone's thought of that, but, you know, I hadn't.) So I decided to write this fic. Hope you enjoy it, and please R&R!

'I – I don't know what it is,' I stammered, staring at Marty. He was staring back at me with wide eyes, leaning against the car door. 'But when I kiss you, it's like I'm kissing…my brother.' I blushed and quickly looked away, knowing I was making a fool of myself; but I couldn't help it. It was like I needed to say it. 'I guess that doesn't make any sense.'

Marty sat up, and tried to grin at me. 'Believe me, it makes perfect sense.'

There was something in his tone that caught my attention. I narrowed my eyes at him. 'You – you do?'

'Yeah.' He was obviously uncomfortable, fidgeting and twisting in his seat. Perhaps he did know I felt. The memory of the kiss we'd shared seconds ago was still giving me a sick feeling in my stomach – and for no discernable reason.

'Lorraine, I don't like lying to you…' said Marty hesitantly.

'What? Lying to me? What about?'

'Uh, I don't know how to say this, but, uh…' Marty glanced at the ceiling, out the window, at his knees; finally he met my gaze and said, with an obviously forced grin and a half-shrug, 'I'm your future son.'

I was sure I'd misheard, and yet… 'Sorry?' I said. I tried to sound casual, but my voice came out as a whisper. 'Could you say that again, Marty?'

Sweat was glistening on his forehead. 'OK, forget what I just said,' he replied quickly. 'I was just kidding, you know…'

'No, Marty.' My tone was firm now. There was an odd roaring in my ears, my hands were trembling…but I had a feeling. A feeling like I believed Marty. 'You said you were my – my future son.'

'Yeah, I know this sounds really crazy, Mom,' said Marty, the words rushing out. 'But you gotta believe me, OK? It's true. You know Doc Brown? Well he built a time machine. In 1985, that's where I'm from – '

'You called me Mom!' I squeaked, my voice rising and cutting him off. 'I heard you. You just called me Mom!'

Marty shifted uncomfortably in the seat. He looked like he wished he were a million miles away. 'Well, yeah. Cos, you know. You are.'

It was crazy, it was impossible. But as I looked into Marty's eyes, I sensed the truth. I could feel something between me and Marty – like a connection. But I had a son? A son!

'This can't be happening, Marty!' I gasped. 'A son! I can't have a son! Look at me, Marty! I'm only seventeen years old! I'm too young to have a child!'

'Children,' said Marty. 'I have an older brother and sister.'

A little scream escaped me and I clapped my hand over my mouth. I was shaking uncontrollably. Marty reached out to me in concern, though looking apprehensive, but I shoved his hand away and reached for the bottle I'd been drinking from earlier. I took a swig and wiped the back of my hand across my mouth.

'You really shouldn't drink, Mom,' said Marty quietly.

'Not now, Marty!' I shrieked at him. 'I really do not need this now! You've been behaving like my mother the whole – ' My sentence halted and we both stared at each other.

Then Marty's mouth twitched and his shoulders shook briefly. He started to laugh, turning away almost apologetically. I laughed reluctantly too, beginning to relax a little.

'God, it's true.' I was scarcely able to come to terms with what was sitting in front of me. 'You _are_ my son. From the future. I don't believe this…I really don't. I have kids!'

'You seem more amazed by that than the fact I'm from the future,' said Marty with a grin.

'But God! Kids! I can't believe that I'm going to have kids!'

'What, didn't you ever plan to have any when you were older, Mom? Haven't you ever thought about it?' said Marty incredulously.

'Marty…' I gave him a look. 'Please stop calling me that. You have no idea how weird that sounds. And you have no idea how weird this _feels!_ I mean, yeah, I've thought about having kids in the future…but to actually _know _it…to have one of them sitting right in front of me…' I could hear my voice becoming tearful and my eyes were stinging. 'I'm too young for this. I'm not ready for children!'

'Look, Mom…uh, Lorraine,' Marty amended hastily. 'I know this is pretty heavy. Hell, I really don't think I should've told you any of this. But don't worry about it. You got your life in front of you. Things'll just work out naturally.'

'Right.' I sniffed. Though I was feeling a bit better, I was tempted to reach for a cigarette…but something stopped me. I knew Marty would disapprove, and I wanted him to respect me…I wanted to set an example like a good mother would.

_God, what am I thinking? I'm going insane. I'm not a mother yet, and I hopefully won't be one for a while yet._

'This is very weird, Marty,' I mumbled. 'Kids. Wow.' My thoughts began to skip ahead to the future. 'Three kids. You know, that seems like the perfect number to me.'

'Yeah,' Marty muttered distractedly

. 'Great. Doc is gonna flip if he finds out I told you any of this.'

'Doc? Oh, yes – your uncle.'

'Yeah, but he's not my uncle really,' said Marty. 'He's like the younger version of my Doc – the 1985 one. He built the time machine.'

'Oh.' I couldn't help but smile wistfully. 'I wish I could go into the time machine and see my future…my other two kids…my husband…' My eyes, which had been drifting closed, snapped open again. 'My husband! I never thought of that! Who is he, Marty? Anyone I know?' I giggled.

'Ah…I definitely can't tell you that,' said Marty awkwardly. 'It might make things ever worse. I wish I could tell you, though…Jesus, I wish I'd never come here! I'm seriously screwing things up here for everyone, especially me…I don't even know if I'll get home again…' His voice trembled and tears welled in his eyes.

I had no idea what he was talking about, and I had a thousand more questions that I desperately wanted to ask; but the look on Marty's face stopped me. There were so many emotions on his face – unhappiness, confusion, desperation, fear – and I was prompted to do something I was barely aware of doing: I reached over and pulled him to me, taking him into my arms.

We sat like that for a few minutes, in silence. Marty's head was leaning on my chest; I was holding him tightly, my cheek resting on his head. I could hear him sniffing miserably. 'Shh…hush, Marty, it'll be all right…' I whispered, idly running my fingers through his hair. I felt an odd sense of peace, of wholeness; it was a feeling I'd never experienced before. Almost as if I was feeling…motherly.

In the darkness of the car, I smiled and lightly touched my lips to Marty's hair.

And then there were loud footsteps approaching outside and the car door was yanked open and Biff Tannen ripped my son away from my arms.


End file.
